Our Saviour
by Asynca
Summary: Lara knows that completing the research her father started and finding out more about a fabled Prophet is the only way she can uncover the secret to immortality and use it to free Sam from Himiko's clutches. Light Spoilers for Rise of the Tomb Raider


There'd been a cold snap in mid-December this year and it was _freezing_ out. Every night it rained so all the pavements had frozen over by early morning—and at the odd point at which I had the telly on, all the news outlets were playing 'funny' videos of people slipping and falling on their arses because of the ice. "London might even have a white Christmas this year!" one broadcaster announced, and the lot of them on every bloody channel spent _hours_ discussing this point as if it mattered at all.

I turned the telly off. I couldn't focus on reading, and it hardly mattered what the weather was like: I hadn't left my flat in nearly a week.

I couldn't, not now. I was close. I was so close, I could feel it. I was nearly there—nearly at the secret of immortality. I was so close I had my bags packed so at a moment's notice I could leave and go wherever I needed to. It was Syria, I thought. Syria, or Jordan, or somewhere in that region, just like Dad had said. I was so close I _dreamt_ of lifting the Syrian chalice, or the golden amulet, or the whatever-the-secret-was in my hand and _shattering_ it, _twisting_ it, _ripping_ it apart. In my dreams it _smashed_ into a million pieces on the ground, forever destroyed, releasing its prisoners _free_.

But every page I turned, ever article I found on every online database and every online library was nothing but the same old thing, the same old 'myths' over and over. I scoured them anyway, hoping for original texts, _something_ I could look at with fresh eyes. Something Dad hadn't found already.

A knock on the door startled me.

"Lara? Lara are you home?" That was Ana's voice.

I swore under my breath; I didn't want to be interrupted, not now. I was tempted to pretend I wasn't home, except I could almost hear Dad scolding me from beyond the grave just for so much as thinking it. I sat back from my laptop, sighing and rubbing my eyes. I probably looked _terrible_.

The door opened before I'd told her I was home, and she looked just as surprised as I'd been. "Oh, you _are_ home! That's a relief. It would be so awful if you were outside in _this_!" she gestured at the window, presumably beyond which was _shocking_ weather. The window was frosted over; I hadn't opened in in a few days. Ana clearly disapproved, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned towards me and smiled. "I thought you might like to come to dinner? My family is having a pre-Christmas thing nearby. You'd be welcome."

 _Not a chance_ , I thought. Her conservative Russian family thought my father was mad—I remember hearing her argue on the phone with them often while Dad and her were together. Not even the opportunity to brush up on my very ordinary Russian could tempt me enough to get me at the same table as them. "Thanks, but I think I'll stay here." I paused, wondering if I should continue. She was the only one who'd know what I was talking about, after all. "I think I'm close to something, Ana."

Her brow furrowed just a little. Those wrinkles were nearly permanent now. "Are you?" She sounded more concerned than interested. It was the same look I'd seen her give to my father a _thousand_ times.

Well, it was too late not to tell her now, wasn't it? "Don't be like that," I told her, rolling aside so she could see my screen. "Do you remember this?"

She did actually look. Maybe part of her _did_ think Dad was right. "What am I looking at?"

It was like a green light. My heart lifted as I pointed to the scan of and old map of Syria Dad had been obsessed with. "Do you remember those tapes Dad made about the Prophet's Tomb in Syria? Well, I think I found it!" I winced, and corrected myself. "Nearly, anyway. I've nearly found it. He was _right,_ Ana! Can you believe it? It's definitely there, _here_ , I mean," I tapped the screen, "here, it's somewhere here, or where this _used_ to be before it was bombed into rubble. Do you remember back in 2005, when he was trekking all over Syria and Jordan because he thought he'd found what he was after? _Well,_ I listened to all the recordings he made, and—"

" _Lara_." She interrupted me. When I looked up at her, she seemed so sad. "Be reasonable. There's a _war_ in Syria right now. Anyway, this can all wait, and you need to eat."

I heard that voice before. She'd used it with Dad. "But don't you get what that means, Ana? He was _right_! It means—"

"It means he's a very good research archaeologist who took the myths a little too literally, that's all. And I'm so happy for you that you're making your own discoveries, Lara, but—"

"—He took them literally because they were _real_! They were real, Ana, I've seen them with my own eyes now. You _have_ to believe me." I stood from my chair, fanning my hand towards the wall. It was _covered_ in photocopies of books I'd found with articles backing my father up, and informing about _other_ people looking for the same thing. "Look, look at all of this! There's this big society or something called _Trinity_ who are looking for the Prophet's Tomb, too. Do you remember Dad saying that? Well," I pointed at a few papers about them, "they're real just like everything else, look! And they know Dad was right, I just need to—"

"— _Lara_!" She put her hands on my shoulders. "Listen to yourself! You sound just like Richard did. Please, you need to relax, take a break from—"

I shrugged off her hands, a bit roughly on reflection. "How can I take a break when I'm _so close_ to proving Dad was right? The _secret_ _to immortality_ is out there! There's something out there that can _create_ immortals, that can _break_ them, that can—"

There was compassion in her eyes. "—that can destroy this 'Himiko' you keep telling me about and give you back your best friend?"

It was like a _slap_ in the face.

She let in hang in the air between us while I _reeled_ from it, breathless.

She was the first to speak. Her voice was quiet. "I know how much you miss her, Lara. Believe me, when Richard started to see things and hear things, I remember how I—"

I set my jaw. "—she's not _seeing things or hearing things_. They're actually happening, Ana. I _saw_ them. I know what's _really_ happening to her."

Ana's eyes looked so sad. She touched my shoulder again, squeezing it, and then stepped away from the table and walked out into the middle of the room, surveying its contents.

I hadn't unpacked properly yet after I'd moved out of the apartment Sam and I shared—I couldn't afford the rent by myself, not without dipping into my family's money. Everything was still in boxes, and when Ana tried the central light; it didn't work. Replacing that bulb had been something I'd been meaning to do. But it wasn't urgent. Nothing else was urgent while Sam still needed my help.

She looked back towards me. "Lara, this place is like a tomb."

"I'll replace to globe next time I go to Tesco, I promise."

She shook her head at me. That had clearly not been what she meant. "There's no air in here. And it's nearly Christmas," she reminded me. "But where are your Christmas lights? The beautiful Christmas tree you used to love? Maybe we could get them out. That would brighten up this place."

They were in one of these boxes somewhere. Sam and I used to decorate our flat together. Ana was changing the subject, anyway, she didn't really care about Christmas decorations, she just wanted me to stop talking about Dad's research. _Sam would have listened_ , I thought. God, Sam would probably have put us both on a plane already, heading towards where I thought the Prophet's Tomb might be. I could almost hear her complaining she didn't have any proper clothes for trekking through a desert and wondering where she was going to plug the battery for her camera in…

Ana's voice interrupted me. "You can't mourn her forever, Lara. It's been a year. I know it must be hard, I liked her, and when I lost Richard—"

That made me _bristle_. "You _liked_ her?" I asked Ana, twisting to look at her. "Past tense? You _liked_ her?"

She gave me a look. "Lara, you know I don't mean it like that, I—"

I took a step towards her. "I haven't _lost_ her, Ana! I'm not _mourning_ her!" I pointed back at my research wall. "She's not gone, and I'm going to help her! I'm going to _free_ her!"

Ana looked uncomfortable. "She already has the _best_ therapists and the _best_ psychologists—"

"—who aren't going to do bloody _anything_ against Himiko!" I interrupted her, and then realised how very rude I sounded. Ana was only trying to help. I took a breath. "I'm sorry," I said, more subdued. "I'm sorry. But I'm _not_ mad, and neither was Dad, and neither is Sam. Don't you think it's odd that _three_ people are all 'seeing' the same thing? Doesn't that suggest that it's _not_ just me, and it's _not_ just Dad?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out before she simply closed it again. I—I didn't think I saw disbelief. She wasn't looking at me with pity. It looked like _regret_.

Perhaps she was thinking about Dad.

This time, _I_ went up to her. I put my hands on _her_ shoulders. "It's real, Ana. Dad was right, immortality is _real._ And I'm going to find out the secret and I'm going to save Sam."

When she looked up, it wasn't at me, it was past me. Her eyes were veiled, and I could see doubt, there. _There was doubt there._ She was looking at my wall. Reading details. Looking at what I had printed up there.

 _She believes me_ , I thought. _She believes me_.

And when her mouth opened, I thought I'd hear it. I thought I'd hear her asking more, asking for more proof. Because I'd find it for her. I would _show_ her.

"I—really think you should start seeing your therapist again, Lara." My heart _sank_. She could see my disappointment, and she tried to quickly explain herself. "Even just to bring you more balance. You're so _obsessed_ these days. You need to relax: it's _Christmas_. Come with me to dinner with everyone. It's at lovely little place close by with a real open fire."

I turned again from her. "Then I hope you enjoy it."

She reached out for me; I stepped away from her arm. "Lara, please, for Richard's sake, please get out of the house for a little while. It'll do you good."

I leant on my desk, looking up at my wall. _This_ was for Dad's sake, what _I_ was doing. Dad's and Sam's, all of this. Nothing else mattered. Outside, I could hear a woman laughing, some carol singers, and cars driving up and down the main road. People going about their lives. In here, dust hung in the shafts of light spilling from the window. This place _did_ feel like a tomb. The _wrong_ tomb.

When I didn't reply, she sighed, resignation audible. "Well, if you won't come out, I suppose I'll drop by on Christmas Day and bring you some pudding, then…"

I was staring at the map of Syria on my screen. Maybe she was right, maybe I _should_ get out of the house. Maybe I'd come as close as I could to the Prophet's Tomb as I could from 3000 miles away.

Well, then.

"You can save yourself the bother," I told Ana, glancing back at her. "I won't be here."


End file.
